


Oceansong

by Dragonheiress374



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Shipwrecked, Backstory, Galra Empire, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Sirens, Transformation, ancient lance, angsty keith, cute shit, klance, legend, mermaid au, myth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonheiress374/pseuds/Dragonheiress374
Summary: The legend tells the story of a man, beautiful enough to have captured the heart of the sea.And everyone knows that history is doomed to repeat itself.***Keith has always adored the ocean, he felt himself drawn towards it for reasons he didn't understand. But when he was forced to leave his home, as the Galra forced him and the other citizens out, he thought he'd never live to see the great expanse of water again. What he didn't know is that he would, but it would be under dire circumstances, fleeing from the Galra empire. Things become worse when his ship is attacked as it leaves. But something is watching over Keith. A presence that he has felt since he was a little boy. And as the fates have woven, they meet.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, here is the promised new fic that I started! Something different!  
> (I know I said I'd post it within the next few days, but I was feeling particularly ambitious, so here's the first chapter!)
> 
> This is the link to the art that I found inspirtation from:  
> https://m-arci-a.tumblr.com/post/151570284985/he-gotta-give-him-that-air-you-know

The legend tells the story of a man, beautiful enough to have captured the heart of the sea. 

And everyone knows that history is doomed to repeat itself.

****

“Lance! Please, it’s time to come back in!” A strong female voice shouted out over the wind.

“Just a minute Mama!” Lance didn’t tear his eyes from the lake. It had moved up to greet his hand, he could’ve sworn it did. His Mama had said he was Poseidon blessed, before when he had fallen in the lake, not knowing how to swim, and emerged again. 

Lance stood up along the rocky bank of the lake, he considered briefly of hiking up his chlamys and wading out into the water, but he knew his Mama would be mad again if he dirtied his clothes. So he settled with dipping one hand in the cool water, and whispering a quiet prayer to Poseidon. Maybe it was his imagination but Lance thought he felt vibrations, ancient in song and tone, travel through his arm at the contact. Or maybe the water was just cold, and Poseidon was indifferent. 

Lance’s leather sandals protected his feet from the gravel of the lake bank as he made his way back to the house for dinner. His father would be arriving home soon, his Mama had forced him out of the house so her and his sisters could clean. He walked up the grassy hill to the house. One of the workers there welcomed him in, calling him titles of ‘young master’ and ‘young sir’. 

The house was warmly lit with candles, decorative vases had been dusted, the floor swept, and rugs washed. It smelled of the meal his sisters had likely helped prepare. He moved into the dining area, his Mama was shouting orders, people rushed around. Lance flattened himself against the wall. A young female worker was the one to run in and  announce the arrival of his father.

Lance was aware that this was an important time, as his father had been away for some time, waging war against the Galra empire. They were powerful, and often overheard brutal stories of battle against these men. He knew his father would send him to join the army as well. It was only a matter of time. 

Everything was prepped for the arrival. His father walked through the doors of the dining room and he watched his Mama’s face light up at the sight of him. She smiled at him. His father had changed out of his armour, into a chlamys, decorated with different symbols and designs, that showed his glory as an officer in war. 

“Sit. Let us eat.” His father said warmly. They did as he said. Lance couldn’t see the weariness of his father's eyes, he could only see the bright blue, a trait that he inherited. His father was tanned, alike to him, with darker skin. He had however, inherited his mother's chestnut brown hair. His father smiled warmly at him and ruffled his hair. 

“Hello Lance.”

“Hello Father.” He grinned up at his Father. 

The table was filled with small talk, about the progress in the war, his father said that progress had been minimal, the enemy forces were stronger than they had expected. They also talked about his sisters, the marriages they were to have. Both of them were older than him. At the end of the meal the workers whisked the plates away, Lance’s father dismissed everyone in the room except for him and his Mama.

The room was filled with silence. 

“Lance is turning eight within the next few months.” His father started. Lance watched his mother's face fall immediately. 

“I’ve made the arrangements for him to join the training school in Athens. He will leave within the next few days.” His Father folded his hands across the table. His mother just nodded.

“I understand. But I don’t see why they must send them so young.” His Mama stated quietly. 

“To train strength over the years. He will become strong.” 

“Very well. Lance, go to your room. Have the workers help you collect what you’ll need for school.” His mother ordered, Lance obeyed quietly. He knew there would be no argument, especially with his father present. Lance’s took another look at the dead kitchen table. At his mother wringing her hands, before wiping them across her slim frame. 

“Shoo.” She waved him out, smiling with a sort of sadness he had never seen before. 

Lance did as he was asked, and he got the help of the workers as well. Some knew more than others what he was supposed to bring. The time he took to pack one small bag took up all of his free time for the night. There would be no going down to see the lake tonight. Lance was saddened by the thought. At night when the stars reflected across the water, when he could see Selene drive her silver chariot across the sky. Lance stared wistfully out the window. And then he was put to bed, by another one of the workers.

****

It turned out that he was actually to leave with his father the next morning. And his mother did not embrace him before he left, his sisters did not show. He knew that this was to show he was strong, and not coddled by his Mama. He was not allowed to cry. His father rode with him away from the house that was his home. He could see the lake sparkling in the light of Helios’ golden chariot. The ride was quiet, the only noise the horses hooves against the packed earth. Lance let his eyes wander.

After two days ride they approached Athens, the great city looming from the hills. Along with it came new smells, of people, and something unknown. He could hear what he thought was water in the distance. Perhaps it was the sea. The thought of being close to his favorite god made him happier than he had in days. Finally he could see the great glory of Poseidon’s ocean itself. He would be close to home if he was by the water.

The school was set along the coastline, where he could see the great warships along the port. The school itself was filled with many boys, all of different ages. Lance knew that this was to be his home for the coming years. He was one of the youngest in his class, and barely held onto any respect the first days there. He was teased, and mocked. He heard people say that he could never live up to his father's reputation. Lance still knew that he wasn’t allowed to cry, and though the tears did not fall they stung the backs of his eyes. 

Sneaking away during training hours, to walk to the beach, kept him sane. To feel the soft sand beneath his feet. To hear the call of the ocean, to dance in the cool waters that lapped at his feet playfully. He felt as if he belonged with the ocean, and sometimes he would wade deeper and deeper into. Just to feel. He still swore he could feel those ancient vibrations. The song of the ocean, the calling of Poseidon. ‘Poseidon Blessed.”

It became daily routine to sneak out to the ocean, to feel the call of the water. He would pray at each visit, he would bring gifts to the great god of the ocean. 

Years passed with this as routine. He was caught only once, on a day of a great windstorm coming in from the sea. The sky cloudy, dark grey. The rain hadn’t started to fall yet, but Lance Knew it would soon. He was to leave before Zeus would summon lightning and thunder. A teacher had caught him. Scolded him about sneaking out. He had insulted Lance many times over, and slapped him. The teacher had told him that boys like him were to favour the god Ares. In hopes of achieving greatness in battle. Lance had stood his ground throughout the lecture, even though his cheek stung and he could feel the tears threatening to spill. The teacher raised his hand again to slap him for not paying attention to his lecture, but before he could move a great wave came over the ocean, hitting a rock, and drenching the man. Lance was left unharmed, and dry. He was never caught again.

The years went by, and Lance got stronger, he could feel his muscles growing after each day of sweat and soreness. He didn’t have the ability to concentrate in his classes, but excelled on the training grounds. Soon he was defeating boys three years older than him. Sometimes he was called skinny, as his build was still rather tall and lanky, but Lance had the ability to defeat most anybody despite this. He grew proud as the days went by. 

At seventeen he was going to be sent away, to join the lines of the battlefield. He knew that the war progress was still not going well, there was a desperate need for soldiers, and they had started taking younger and younger boys. So at age seventeen, clad in battle armour, his sword strung across his hip, he was boarded on a ship with his few belongings to sail across the sea. He and several others in his class were going with more of the older warriors.

The day they left the ocean was calm. He and the others took to training on the main deck. There was no time to gain any weakness over the trip. This continued each day, and over the days lance was defeated many times by the more seasoned warriors. But almost a week into the trip he had memorized the different fighting types of every man on board. As he defeated the last one in combat he thought he could hear a rumble of approval coming from deep within the ocean. 

The last day they were scheduled to be at sea a storm blew over. Not like any of the harmless rain storms. No this one rocked the boat wildly, shifting tables across the mess hall, and making the armour clank against the walls. Shouting from the upper deck caught Lance’s attention, he pulled himself up the stairs and into the rainstorm outside. Thunder clapped overhead, lightning streaked across the sky. Lance wondered what they had done to offend Zeus, enough to afford this storm. The waves broke over the boat, soaking him, and at the way the ship tilted and rocked, Lance found for the first time that the ocean scared him.

Another wave took over the boat, people were shouting, Lance had grabbed onto a side rail. The seawater stung his eyes and plastered his hair across his face. Another wave came up, this one more violent than the last, it swept off two sailors into the dark turmoil of the waters below the ship. Lance swore he could hear a calling beneath the waves. Not like he had before, no this song enchanted, it was set with an eerie tone. The song came with memories of broken bodies tossed across rocks at sea, of rotting flesh bobbing across the tops of the wave, of splintered bones, and half eaten corpses. 

This could only mean one thing. Sirens. 

That was the thought that chilled Lance to the core. These beautiful beasts, half beautiful woman, half fish. Stories told that they would eat any man who tossed himself overboard. 

He thought he felt a deep set thud, of many cold hands reaching up onto the underside of the boat. Waiting for it to tip. THe fear struck through Lance, he was paralyzed. More shouting awoke him from his trance. 

“THE ROCKS! THE ROCKS!” Someone was screaming. Lance squinted his eyes at the horizon. He was able to make out the jagged peaks of sharp rock jutting out of the water. Lance muttered a quick prayer to whatever god would listen. There was no getting out of this.

They were unable to steer, the sails had knotted themselves together in the wind. Torn pieces of cloth flapped from the mast of the ship.

People were screaming, and Lance felt everything happen in slow motion. The lurch of the ship as it hit solid ground. The wave that came and crashed over the reefed boat, overturning it. It pulled him away from his white knuckled grasp on the rail. People were swept overboard into the cold ocean churning below them. Some were dashed against the rocks, some swept under with the current. 

Lance was lucky. He surfaced in the tremulous ocean, the waves crashing over him, pulling him under when he had just broke the surface. He made an attempt at swimming to the rocks, to find something to grip onto. His muscles strained, his eyes burned from the salt, he was coughing from water that had found it’s way into his lungs. But by some miracle of the gods he made it. He gripped onto a smooth sea rock, slippery under his touch. Debris of the broken ship floated around him. Another lightning strike illuminated the ocean around him. His ears hurt because of the deep rumble that happened barely seconds after. Lance couldn’t make out most anything in the short time he had. 

But maybe it was his eyes playing tricks on him, but he thought he saw something other than the water move. Something fishlike, with scales that gleamed, and the smoothness of the body of a shark. Horrified lance could only watch. Watch as a sailor who had hit the rocks and survived cried out hoarsely. How something moved in the storm, something that sang with choking breaths and a salt stained voice. How it calmed the sailor. Lance watched as the scene played out in front of him. 

Blood was in the water, and they were drawn to it like sharks. They must’ve been able to locate those wrecked bodies on the rocks from the scent in the water. The sailor made a brief effort to upright himself. He looked around in terror. Lance saw them before the sailor did. Sliding their lean bodies across the rocks, making no noise. He watched as they drew nearer, scales shining in the water. He watched as they rose out of the water before this poor man. He heard the guttural cry come from the sailor as one pulled him under, a tail splashed through the water. There was no noise left, other than the raging storm.

Lance looked around in a panic. He saw what might’ve been a body float past. He knew it was when four pale clawed hands reached from the water and pulled it under. There was now a new sound added to the storm. That of breaking bones. Lance could only sit and pray. Pray that they couldn’t smell him, that they wouldn’t find him, that he would be saved. 

As if the ocean had heard him the storm started to die down. The waves became less violent. But with the quietness that he was left with came another sound. The sirens were still here. And they sang out with hoarse voices. Songs of drowned men, songs of rotted corpses, of broken bones. The song grew louder and louder, and then it stopped.

Lance had gripped the rock with white knuckles, he had curled himself against it. And at the silence he relaxed a little. Were they gone? But then he felt something behind him.

Something that curved under the water.

That broke the surface with no noise.

That twisted under the waves, cold, and reeking of death.

Lance smelled it before he saw it.

The scent of dead fish and rotting meat carried to his nose. 

He was not prepared for the hand that felt like ice. It wrapped around his ankle and pulled him from the rocks in one smooth stroke. His head went under. He felt three more pairs of hands grip his legs. He kicked out at them, but their grip was too strong. He struggled as he was pulled down. Further and further beneath the waves. 

He hadn’t seen their faces yet, but he wished he didn’t as soon as he had. One swam through the water towards him, the other three pulling him under. It swam towards him, face gaunt with barnicles decorating along its corpse like flesh, hair knotted with seaweed, eyes lifeless, mouth gaping open to reveal rows and rows of sharp teeth. With nothing else to do he screamed out of pure terror. Bubbled escaped from his mouth, wasting his air. There was no use trying to preserve it anymore. He couldn't even tell where the surface was. He knew he was going to die.

He closed his eyes and felt the crushing weight of the water press against his body, felt the hands tighten around his limbs, felt the cold hand trace over his cheek. But something in him shifted at that moment. The deep vibrations of the ocean flowed through him again, feeling like ice in his veins. The sirens must’ve noticed, he felt their grip loosen, and then it was gone. He heard the ‘screee’ of what he assumed was terror coming from their lips. Suddenly he was encased in a warm teal glow. 

_ ‘Poseidon Blessed…’ _

That was the last thing he felt before he blacked out. 

A voice sang through his mind. Reminding him of something as old as the ocean, and calm as the lake. Something ancient. Something powerful.

_“I couldn’t stand to watch you die. So I granted you new life.”_

When Lance awoke he felt different. He opened his new eyes. He lay on the ocean floor, on a bed of corals. The sunlight danced above his head along the surface of the water, so far away. He could feel that he had changed. Looking down at his arms he noticed a new blue glow, of ancient symbols and patterns that glowed a vibrant blue under the dim light. He reached to his neck to feel gills, two long fins protruded on either side of his skull where his ears should have been. And his legs. Weren’t legs anymore. When he shifted in the water he could feel his new tail, glowing in a similar fashion to his arms. He reached down to run his hands along the smooth blue scales. The tail itself had to be at least ten lengths of what his legs were before. Translucent fins flowed out from it, and at the end was a fin that didn’t resemble anything in the ocean. Curved and sharp it was bigger than his torso. 

He wasn’t a siren, or a merman, or anything that resembled anything of any legend.

He wasn’t sure what he was anymore.

But he didn’t feel any panic at that thought. He felt calm, and like he belonged. 

He was one with the ocean. This was home.

_“I couldn’t stand to watch you die. So I granted you new life. Accept my gift of immortality. Swim free, know no bounds.”_ Those words echoed in his head again. 

**_‘Poseidon Blessed…”_ **


	2. Sinking Ships and Burning Bridges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh. So it might take me a little to be able to get up to decent chapter length. But here you go, this was fun to write. (If you were wondering the time period is like 1940, and the world war is going on, but not in the way it happened in history.)

The sea breeze was something familiar, even if it had been years since he had last saw the ocean. And, like always, Keith was enamoured with the beauty of it all. The way the light that sparkled through the clouds and was reflected off of the water. The salty scent of ocean that carried over with the wind. The soft sounds of cresting waves. This is what he had fallen in love with as a little boy.

Keith brushed his long black hair back and out of the way. He tied it up, to keep it from getting in his face again. The salt spray mixing onto his skin and into his hair would ensure that stray strands would stick to where they were blown to. He adjusted his white shirt, smoothing it down. He didn't know why he was even making an attempt at cleaning up his appearance. It would all become in a disarray soon enough anyways.

A voice crackling over a loudspeaker startled him out of his trance.

“All passengers, numbers fifty to one hundred, may begin boarding.” Keith shifted his bag onto the other shoulder. He made his way off of the sand of the beach, and up the steps onto the pier. It was much less crowded on the beach. Keith found that as soon as he stepped onto the wood weathered from the salt and thousands of people that had trodden over it. Keith kept his head down, and looked at his ticket. Number 77. He didn't want to draw attention to himself. He had already been spat at four times, called several different slurs, and beaten up once within the past four days. As he was visibly half Galra, and people were generally racist. But then again, Keith knew they had every right to be.

The war had started last year. Mostly because the Galra Empire wanted complete world domination. They had almost achieved it over two thousand years ago. The empire itself was a large span of land, that originally ran through Greece into Italy through the Middle East and into most of Asia. But over time they had been fought back and confined to a smaller island off the coast of China. An island that Keith's mother had come from, in an attempt to escape the horrors her children were to face in schools there.

Keith had always struggled with racist comments and attacks, his parents as well. Perks of having heritage with the some of the bloodiest conquers the world had ever seen. So on the pier, filled with light skinned people leaving Poland he was an outsider. Some might even call him a traitor. He passed families, couples, and some younger orphaned boys, alike to himself. He waited in line behind two elderly citizens. When it was his turn he had to raise his head to look at the lady who took his ticket. Her face hardened, but Keith felt lucky that she didn't shout at him or do anything drastic of the sort.

After he took the ticket, sans stub, back he tucked it into his pocket before wiping sweaty palms across his trousers. He exhaled the breath he didn't know he was holding, and tried to relax. He was here. He was going to America, he was going to be free of the violence that plagued this land. Now was the easy part. He sent a quick prayer to Poseidon and Zeus, begging for calm weather. Surprisingly he had kept his father's religion throughout his time alone.

He walked up the boardwalk and into the ship. The metal creaked underfoot. Inside he was herded with the group through small hallways. The inside of the ship was unsurprisingly dark. They shuffled into another area. This one was to be their living quarters for the journey. It was simply a long hallway, bunk beds lining both sides, with small places to store belonging under the bed. Keith found his number written on the side of a top bunk. The space was rapidly filling with people. The amount of noise was almost unbearable, and the heat that would come with this many bodies… Keith shivered at the thought.

The thought that he knew was going to keep him sane over these next weeks was that this would be his freedom. After this journey he could start his life anew. A fresh start in a new country was something that he needed.

He packed away his few belongings under his bed. He thought about going above deck, but he could do that when the ship left. Right now he was tired, and just wanted to sleep. Keith knew that he'd have plenty of time to figure out the the ship’s interior. Now he was stuck here until they reached America. His only problem was the people. He was going to have to hide away most of the time. He wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone who had hate for the Galra flow through their blood.

‘Things will get better.’ Keith thought to himself.

He had been saying those words for over two years now. Ever since his father died in the war, ironically fighting against the Galra, and his mother also passed soon thereafter. It was a miracle he was still alive. Keith knew firsthand the cruelty of people. He knew how hate would drive people to commit terrible crimes and feel no remorse. His mother hadn't deserved any of the hate she had gotten. He knew deep down that he didn't deserve it either. Keith kept to himself, laying on his bed, hands tucked behind his head.

The ship kept filling, and it felt like forever for an announcement to echo over the ship's speakers, saying they were leaving in half an hour. Keith felt relieved. Soon they would be on their way out. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the echoing noise throughout the vessel. Maybe he could catch some sleep, and then he decided he’d travel up to the deck. Due to exhaustion he was out in just minutes.

Keith hadn’t slept well for weeks. The journey to the docks had been a struggle itself. The war that was waging on throughout most of central europe kept him from leaving earlier. He knew he was lucky to have gotten to this point.

At first he dreamt of his parents, nightmares took over soon. He struggled awake, just to doze off again. His dreams thereafter were only slightly more pleasant. Maybe it was the steady rocking of the ship, but he dreamt of how things were when he was little.

***

Keith stood on the beach, sand between his toes and wind whipping his hair around his face. The salt spray from the waves misting his clothes and face. He knew he’d feel sticky afterwards, but the joy of just being along the oceanside made it worth it. His ma had let him travel here from their small brick house alone. Keith knew that it was a privilege to be here. Part of his brain told him to not do anything rash. THe other part was screaming at him to wade as deep as he could into the water.

The sky was overcast and dark. Keith knew that rain would come soon, so maybe now was a good time to wade deep into the water. Before the storm started. Keith sat down on the drier sand. He pulled off his shoes, and then his stockings, setting them in a neat pile. He then proceeded to unbutton his shirt, and pull down his pants. Once his clothes were all in a neat pile, so that they would stay dry, he stood up. He shivered in the cool air, pausing for only a moment to make his way back to the beach. He stood on the edge of the waves, watching as the water pushed over his feet and then pulled out, sinking him down a little further into the sand.

Unsticking his feet from the hole the waves had made for him in the sand he made his way into the water. Once he was knee deep, the water pulling at his legs, as if to call him further out he paused again. He waited for his body to grow accustomed to the cool water before making his way further in. He did the same thing when he was waist deep.

The sand curved down, and soon the waves were just below his shoulders. He would jump up whenever a bigger wave came in to keep his head above the saltwater. He was shivering now, as the water was cooling down in the late summer. Keith felt the tingle of pride flow through him, he had accomplished his goal for today. Wading deep into the water without supervision, was of course, something to be celebrated. However, he knew that he couldn’t tell his Ma or Pa. They would scold him.

Keith turned to head back to the shore, forgetting the most important rule his parents had taught him; never turn your back to the ocean. Because at that moment he felt a huge gust of wind buffet the back of his head. And then the wave came, faster than he thought was possible. THis one was huge, arcing over his head, he had just turned to see it before it pummeled down on him. He was pulled down with the weight of the water. It pulled him deeper, and then pulled him out. Further and further away from shore.

Keith couldn’t tell where the surface was, the salt stung his eyes as he opened them. He tried to fight against the current, but it was a losing battle. When he did manage to surface, he was only able to suck in one breath before another wave crashed down on him, sucking him under again. He was pulled deep, and felt something brush against his shoulder. Something smooth. Keith fought away from whatever it was, his mind immediately going to ‘jellyfish’ He had only been stung once, but it had wrapped around his leg and pained him for weeks. He didn’t want to experience that again.

He fought back to the surface, he broke the water and coughed violently. It had started raining, the wind worse than ever. Keith looked for the coast. The water had pulled him far out, and now he was scared. His limbs burned with exertion, his eyes stung from the salt. He had swallowed some of the water, choked on some more, and his throat stung as well. His blood had run cold, he didn’t know if he could make it back anymore. There was nobody out here to rescue him. The panic and the fear tugged at his mind.

He was faced with a reality no eleven year old should have to face.

He was going to die.

Then he went under again.

He realized then, that the water below was calm. It pulled his body around, but it still felt calm. In the darkness he couldn’t see the bottom. He was left floating in this lukewarm water. He had given up, his arms ached, his legs weren’t much better. His lungs burned, he needed air, but he couldn’t reach it. The surface was too far away, and he was sinking further down with every passing moment. He squeezed his eyes shut. The need for air had become to compelling. Forcing him to try and surface again. His first breath of water burned worse than his need for air.

***

Keith jolted awake. He knew what happened after in that dream. He would open his eyes again to see something fishlike, but still humanoid. A merman, who would swim towards him from the depths. Tail glowing with ancient patterns. It’s face would be obscured, and most of its bodily features. The only thing he was able to see was the glowing markings, and a tail that seemed to span on forever into the depths. He would dream that the murman pulled him ashore, where he would cough up the water he had swallowed. He would watch it slide back into the sea with eyes that were blurry with water droplets. And then he would black out.

He would awaken again in his small house, both parents leaning over his rickety bed, his mother petting his hair, his father standing over her, looking down at him with a pained expression. Keith remembered that after he told him about the male siren that had saved him. His father shook his head and told him that if it truly was a siren it’d have drowned and ate him. And it would not have been male. And after time Keith would believe that the merman was nothing but a fantasy, that his delusional and panicked brain had created. He had passed out below the surface of the water, and a wave had pushed him to shore, where his parents had found him.

He had dreamt the merman. And that is still what Keith believed to this day. Keith had managed to get over his fear of that happening again in a surprisingly short amount of time. His parents were convinced that the merman was merely an illusion that his brain had created to help him cope with the incident. They were right, and it’d actually worked rather well. He was back out in the ocean in a month. But this time with more caution. That only lasted a year. Before the invasion began, forcing him and his mother away from their home. His father was sent to war. They moved further north. Up through Romania and into Poland. They stayed there together. That was up until the invasion again. They struggled through again, and then news of his father's death had come. His mother was forced to move again. They stayed in another city for almost a year, in hiding, the fear of being taken like many others was too great.

His mother was found, by a group of people who hated the Galra, and what they had done to their peaceful countries. She had pleaded him to leave, told him to find a ship and sail to America. He had to run away from her, he was old enough then that if that group had found him, he was sure he’d face the same fate as the rest of his family. And that took him to here.

But now he was safe, or at least safer than he was before. On his way to the only countries without war, an a continent so far away from his home. Maybe he’d return. But that all depended on the winning side. Keith stretched out his arms, before kicking his feet over the side of the bed. He hopped down swiftly and stretched out his back and legs. Some people were sleeping in their own bunks, some beds were empty. Keith walked out of the bunking area, he followed through a couple of hallways, and up to the deck of the ship. He walked out of the door to see people crowding alongside the rails. The sun was setting over the horizon, the pink and yellows reflecting off of the sea. Keith walked over to the rail, getting a spot along the edge. He gripped the lines to watch the sea pass by.

The ship didn't move exceptionally fast, but they were still creating a huge wake. As this was Keith's first time he had been on a ship this big he found the sight breathtaking. The blue and white of the trail the boat left behind, and with the sun reflecting off the water, it was a sight. Keith stood on the edge by the rail of the boat just to watch the sun disappear, faster than he'd have thought. The stars twinkled into sight moments after. The chill that came with the sea this far north was almost soothing. The cramped quarters of the deck below had rendered him hot and sweaty. The breeze outside was refreshing. The deck was emptying out, until a small number of people were left standing outside. This just made Keith more adamant in not going below deck.

The hum of the engine and the sound of water hitting against the hull of the boat were the noises Keith tuned into. He closed his eyes just to feel the spray of the water. He breathed in the scent of the salty ocean deeply. He had missed this, in all the years he had been away. Nothing was quite like the ocean. Even the biggest lakes didn't come close to this glory. To watch the water span out for what seemed like forever, to taste the salt in the air, Keith loved it. He was at peace.

Nothing could have prepared him for the blast that shook the boat, the one that sent him flying over the rail and into the calm waters.

The war at sea had found them.

Keith didn't try to find his way to the surface, not at first because the blast had left him stunned, and not as long as he watched the debris rain down into the waters above him. The new light from the ship on fire danced across the surface. Soon his lungs forced him to kick his way to the air. He forced himself to breath, to try and stay calm.

He could hear the screaming, watched as anybody left on deck, or close to the deck plunged themselves into the waters. The ship was ruined, sinking fast. It had broken apart, the parts still above water were billowing smoke and flames. The sounds of tearing metal. The creaks and groans as parts of the ship gave out and plunged into the ocean could be heard clearly.

There were people, some in the water around him, some left on deck. Keith couldn't tell if some of them were dead or alive. He didn't want to know. Something burning plunged into the sea only meters away from Keith. And the scent that reached his nose told him that it wasn't a something, but a someone.

Whatever had hit them was long gone by the time that both parts of the ship had disappeared before the waves. Keith couldn't make out much in the darkness of light. He could hear someone calling out. Desperately he swam towards the voice. A young man was crying out in pain, clinging onto a piece of the wreckage in front of him. Keith forced himself closer.

“Help me…” The man croaked out. Keith gripped onto the floating debris.

“Hey, hey! I'm here, can you tell me what's wrong! What do you need?” Keith asked panicked.

“My arm…” The man whimpered. He held out his right hand, or what should've been his right hand. In the darkness it was hard to make out, but from what Keith could see was grotesque. Where the hand should've been there was a stump. Bone fragments poked through bloody flesh, It was dripping. Saltwater mixed with blood. Keith turned away and was violently ill.

When he had finished gagging, he spat out as much of the taste he could, and turned back to the man.

“We need to cut off circulation, do you have a belt?” Keith asked quickly. The man nodded and put his good hand below the surface, he pulled it back out of the water with a leather belt in hand. Keith took it from him.

“Reach your arm out…” Keith demanded, and tried not to be sick at the sight of his mangled flesh again. Keith looped the belt around the man's arm, he tightened it as best he could.

“Too close to the blast, I’m think…” The man mumbled. Keith could tell he had lost a lot of blood, he wasn't sure this man was going to live. Especially with rescue almost out of the picture in these waters… Keith forced those thoughts away. Someone would come.

Keith tried to listen for any more voices, but there were none. Was it possible that he and this man were the only people left alive? From the force of the explosion, and the fact that most everyone was below deck, Keith assumed it was possible. He hoped it wasn't true.

The quiet sounds of lapping water were the only sounds that Keith could hear. That and the quiet whimpering on the man clinging to the same piece of wreckage that he was. That was until he heard something splash in the water. And another. And then a new sound echoed over the sea. And Keith must've gone mad, because it was singing. And even though Keith had accustomed himself to speak english he could almost make out the Greek words. Something his father had taught him. It was foggy, and he couldn't understand much, but what he did was talking about death.

“What is that?” The man beside him sputtered.

“Wait, you hear it too?” Keith gasped.

“Yes? What? What's going on? What is this?” The mad stammered.

“I've got no clue…”

An Ancient Greek legend replayed in Keith's head. Of mermaids that would sing to lure their victims into the water. So that they could drag their corpses down to the depths to eat. Sirens. And they were already in the water.

Keith's irrational brain played the myth over an over. And then something surfaced in the water behind him. He span around to see something, no not something but someone, disappear below the waves. The man went silent.

“What the fuck…”

And then he screamed, just before he was torn off the wreckage and into the cold sea. The blood. In the water. They must be sharks, something that would drag the bodies down to eat. Something that could smell the bodies in the water. None of this explained the singing, but Keith was ready to latch onto any more logical explanation than sirens.

And then he felt something grab his ankle. It tugged him down with no warning. Keith was forced off the piece of wreckage and dragged below. It was too dark to make anything out. The floating thing he had been clinging to must've had something attached below. Because in his struggle against the force pulling him down he knocked the back of his head on something hard. He didn't pass out right away. Lights lit up his vision, glowing a teal green. And then the grip on his ankle was gone. Keith's head swam, and he couldn't make out anything more except the gentle hands that gripped his shoulders. That was the last thing he felt before he was rendered unconscious.


End file.
